


Suburban White Mom AU

by pretendimanauthor



Category: SHINee
Genre: Comedy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretendimanauthor/pseuds/pretendimanauthor
Summary: suburban white mom au... need i say morewarnings: food, cursing





	1. Betty Crocker's Bitch

“This is bullshit,” Key huffs, crossing his arms. “Just look at them. Fawning over him.”

“Mhm,” Jonghyun mumbles as he stuffs another one of Onew’s deviled eggs into his mouth.

“I don’t know why he’s even invited to the block party every year. His macaroni salad tastes like  _ shit. _ ” Key angrily sips his crappy instant lemonade, and crushes the plastic cup when he’s finished.

“It’s cuz he’s hot.” Jonghyun dabs his lips with a gingham napkin.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Key stutters. “ _ Hot? _ ”

“Oh shut up.” Jonghyun rolls his eyes. “He’s hot and you know it.”

“I would  _ never _ -” Key nervously adjusts the salmon cardigan tied around his neck. “Minho is definitely not hot.”

“If you say so.” Jonghyun gives Key another skeptical look before grabbing his twelfth deviled egg. “Look, here he comes, Mr. Dreamboat himself.” Jonghyun points to Minho, who’s making his way towards the appetizer table. Key groans.

“Hey guys!” Minho flashes his award winning smile and exchanges mutually insincere hugs with his two neighbors. “I haven’t seen you all day! Where have you been?”

“Just right over here!” Key grins, mentally punching Minho in the gut.

“I see you’re enjoying Onew’s deviled eggs. They’re off the hook, right?” Minho’s grin matches Key’s in its hatred.

“Oh, totally.” Jonghyun replies as he obscenely shoves another one into his mouth. Minho’s grin falters slightly.

“I loved your jello, Key. Such an... artful use of canned fruit.”

“Oh gosh, thanks. I could never match your brownies from last year though- Betty Crocker is always such a crowd pleaser!” Minho and Key laugh, eyeing each other with murderous intent.

“Well, I better get going. Wouldn’t want to miss the apple bobbing contest!” Minho smooths out his argyle sweatervest.

“Yeah, that big mouth of your’s ought to be good for something!” Key gives Minho his brightest smile. Minho’s jaw tightens, and for a moment Key thinks his neighbor’s finally about to lose it, before he calmly struts away, waving cheerfully.

“Wow.” Jonghyun exhales.

“I know. What a fucking-”

“That was some  _ intense _ flirting. I thought you guys were about to drop onto the lawn and have sex right here.”

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”


	2. Garden of the Gays

_ Ding dong. _

“Fucking finally.” Minho stands up from his Holbrook swivel bar stool in rubbed black, purchased from Pier 1 for only $179.95 each. What a fucking  _ steal _ .

His new running shoes squeak on the hardwood flooring as he makes his way to the front door. He swings it open, fully expecting to see Taemin clad in unnecessarily tight workout clothing.

“Taemin! You’re late, you piece of-” Instead of his tiny friend bouncing happily on his front step, ready to jog, Minho sees an angry, wet, panting Key.

“Choi.”

“Kim.”

Key dumps a detached sprinkler at Minho’s feet.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you to move your sprinkler  _ at least _ five feet from the edge of my lawn?” Key hisses.

“I don’t-”

“ _ How many times, Choi?”  _ Key shrieks, pointedly shoving his finger into Minho’s chest. Minho scowls, grips Key’s slippery arm, and shoves him backwards. Key barely misses stepping into Minho’s potted petunias.

“Get your panties out of a knot. It's not like  _ you’ve _ ever won the Neighborhood Garden Games anyways.” Minho snorts, thinking of the four tulip-shaped trophies proudly displayed in his den.

“I’ll have you know that my delphiniums look fucking fantastic this year, and my peonies would be just as lovely if you hadn’t put your goddamn sprinkler so close to them.” Key crosses his arms. “And I had to go running into the sprinkler just to turn the thing off. Look at me, I’m a mess thanks to you.”

“You don’t look any uglier than usual.” Minho scans Key’s soaking wet figure. “In fact, it looks like that polo could use a good wash.”

“It’s called  _ paisley _ .” Key glares up at Minho, gesturing towards Minho’s neon orange tank top and green gym shorts. “Not that you would know anything about fashion.”

“Are we done here?” Minho clenches his jaw.

“Not until I get an apology.”

“For what? Graciously ridding you of your uglyass flowers?”

“No for  _ ruining _ my  _ beautiful  _ flowers, you son of a bitch.” Minho rolls his eyes and moves to shut the door on Key before the other stops the door with his foot, grips Minho’s forearms, and pulls him back outside in one swift motion.

“Apologize.”

“No.” Minho grabs Key’s arms in response, attempting to push him away. Key digs his nails in. The two stand completely still, applying increasing amounts of force on each other’s arms, baring their teeth until an awkward cough breaks the silence.

“Um... Am I interrupting something?” The two turn to find Taemin shuffling his feet nervously on the porches front step.

“ _ No _ ,” Minho and Key snap, but neither breaks their hold on the other. Taemin eyes the pair suspiciously. Key is soaking wet, his hair and clothing clinging to his smooth skin and toned figure. Minho’s jogging outfit has put his muscles on full display, and his face is flushed. The two are locked in an intense embrace, seemingly about to kiss or confess their undying love.

“Are you  _ sure _ ?”


	3. Double Double Toil and Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> halloween edition!

“ _Bastards_ .” Key slams his Martha Stewart Approved keyhole saw into the top of his pumpkin, aggressively carving a zigzag-lined lid as he watches _Jonghyun_ fraternizing with _Minho_ at the treat buffet. He wouldn’t have even bothered to show up at this year’s Jack-O-Lantern Bash if he had known his best friend was going to waste the evening speaking to Key’s least favorite neighbor.

“Fucking-” Key rips the lid off of his pumpkin, “-traitor.”

“Um, Key?”

“ _What?_ ” Key looks up from his first perfectly made incision.

“Are you alright?” Onew is standing above him, holding a tray of caramel apples, looking very concerned.

“Am I alright? Just _look_ at them. It’s disgusting.” Key points his scraping tool, which he ordered specifically for his hand size and patterned with adorable little ghosts, at the two who are _still_ chatting in front of the ridiculously cliche, dry ice “Witches Brew” fruit punch.

“Oh. I see.” Onew quickly hides an amused snort with a cough. “Would you like an apple? It’ll make you feel better.” He flashes one of his ridiculously bright smiles. Key grins and accepts one of his sweets. He doesn’t know how Minho ever beat out Onew for the Smiling Neighbor Contest; Onew’s practically made of sunshine. Plus, he never uses shitty fake caramel on his apples.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Onew is about to turn and leave Key to his dangerously violent pumpkin carving when he spots Jonghyun returning from his mutinous chat.

“Hey guys! Happy Halloween!” Jonghyun skips over like the dork he is, and takes one of Onew’s apples.

Key bites into his own caramel apple with murderous force and hisses, “ _Jonghyun._ ”

“Whoa, buddy. What the heck is your problem? Minho giving you blue balls, or something?” Jonghyun smirks, and Onew stifles a giggle.

“Oh my fucking _god_ , Jonghyun, I’m going to kill you-”

“What’s shakin, my skeleton bros?” Taemin suddenly appears next to Jonghyun, decked out in sparkly bone hairclips and spooky skull face paint.

“You look cute!” Jonghyun gushes. Key rolls his eyes as Taemin peels the caramel off of Jonghyun’s apple, and then proceeds to eat it in the most obscene way imaginable.

“How’s it going, Key?” Taemin smiles down at Key’s work station.

“Before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I was trying to explain to Jonghyun that-”

“Whoa, whoa, there. What’s wrong? Did Minho not respond to your nudes last night?” Taemin, Jonghyun, and Onew all begin to laugh. Key stands up, sets his tools onto the black and orange tablecloth, and starts walking away.

“I’m going to get a drink,” he spits. He adjusts his sequined haunted house sweater, breathing heavily as he attempts to avoid exploding.

Right as he’s about to pour a ladle of cheap fruit punch into his cheap plastic goblet, he hears Minho’s obnoxious laugh nearby.

“Hey!”

Key sighs before turning to face the absolute worst man on earth, and is immediately assaulted by a pile of horrifically wet, sticky, stringy pumpkin guts.

“Oh my god.” Key looks down at his ruined clothing, then up at Minho.

“Oh shit.” Minho looks down at Key’s ruined clothing, then at his face. He gulps, and tightly grips the tray that used to be carrying the contents of several pumpkins.

“Look at what you _did_ ,” Key screeches.

“I’m so sorry.” Minho’s mind races with ways that he could possibly fix this scenario. Sure, he hates Key, but there are plenty of sharp objects in their vicinity and he’s never seen Key this pissed before.

“I don’t-” Key inhales deeply, before bursting into tears.

“Um, _fuck_ .” Minho immediately sets the tray onto the buffet table, but is completely overwhelmed by Key’s reaction. He had never expected to see Key, the self-proclaimed dark overlord of their neighborhood, collapse into broken, awful sounding _sobs_. He grabs Key by the hand, and leads him to the park bathroom. He checks to make sure that it’s empty before ushering Key inside.

Key just stands by the sink, weeping, as Minho scrambles around the bathroom wetting paper towels and gingerly rubbing at Key’s sweater.

Normally, Minho thinks, Key would be screaming at Minho about how _expensive_ this _designer_ sweater was, and Minho would be telling him exactly how tacky he thought the shitty wool garment was, and they would go on being Worst Enemies hellbent on destroying the other’s reputation. As he notices that the water isn’t doing much for Key’s sweater and that Key hasn’t made a single sound other than his rattling sobs, Minho realizes that he would much prefer the furious Key to the sad Key.

“It’s not coming out,” Minho whispers, gesturing to Key’s sweater. Key just covers his eyes with his hands and sniffles.

“Um, can I-?” Realizing that Key isn’t going to so much as acknowledge him, Minho sighs and wraps his arms around the other. They stand like that for a while, with Key crying and Minho looking anywhere but at the man in his arms, until Key says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, it’s okay.” Minho steps back from Key, and is amazed at how vulnerable and exhausted Key looks.

“It’s not you. I don’t really give a shit that you ruined this sweater, honestly,” Key sighs and runs a hand through immaculately styled his hair, “It’s just sort of a lot of things combined? Like, back at the pumpkin carving table everyone was being kinda shitty and my dog is really sick right now and the cupcakes that I brought didn’t turn out well and then the sweater. I just couldn’t keep holding it in, I guess. Sorry that you had to be there when I broke down. Thanks for trying to clean up the mess, but don’t worry about it.” Key looks at his reflection, groans, and then turns to leave the bathroom. He’s just gonna go home, and hopefully no one notices him on his way back.

“Hey, Key?” Minho calls.

“Yeah?” Key turns around.

“For what it’s worth, I thought your cupcakes were pretty good.” Minho smiles. “You almost can’t even tell that you bought the icing and decorations pre-made.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Key rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Do you wanna wear my jacket on your way back? That way no one will ask you what happened.”

“Sure, I guess. Even though it's an uglyass windbreaker for 40-something moms.” Key smirks, and Minho scoffs as he hands it over.

“I hope I’ll see you at the Fear Fest next weekend!”

“I bet you do.” Key zips up the ridiculous jacket, and exits the bathroom, grinning to himself.


	4. Casserole Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably ? the last edition

Minho grips the dashboard as the family sedan screeches to a halt.

“You are, quite possibly, the shittiest driver alive,” Minho hisses, glaring at Taemin.

“You could always ask _Key_ to pick you up,” Taemin quips.

“Fuck off,” Minho groans, exits the car, and gathers up his J. Crew duffle bag of cooking supplies, “You’ll be back at 6:00 right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taemin flashes Minho a shit-eating grin, “Make sure you don’t get any cum in the casserole!” Minho sighs heavily, and slams the door shut. He can hear that douchebag continue to laugh as he speeds away, leaving Minho on the front steps of his mortal enemy’s house.

He straightens his hunter green polo, already seething, before ringing Key’s doorbell. Of course, of _fucking_ course, he and Key were paired up for the annual Christmas Casserole Competition. It’s as if everyone in the goddamn neighborhood was against him.

“You’re late,” Key says the instant he opens the front door.

“Your gardenias are looking a little dry,” Minho replies. They stand there for a few solid minutes, staring angrily and wishing each other painful deaths, before Key huffs.

“Let’s get this over with.” He steps aside to let Minho into his home, wrinkling his nose when he neglects to wipe his ugly Sperry’s off on the welcome mat.

“Nice dish towels,” Minho says as he heaves his bag on top of the kitchen island.

“Thanks.

“Williams-Sonoma? _Last_ season?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Key snaps. Minho smirks to himself as he waits for Key to finish placing the ingredients on the counter.

“Did you decide on a recipe, then?”

“Yes, I was thinking we could make a turnip casserole with porcini crumb topping, since last year everyone complained that there was too much meat-”

“ _Absolutely_ not. I hate turnips,” Minho folds his arms and turns up his nose.

“This isn’t _about_ you, Minho. It’s a great, simple recipe from foodandwine.com, and unless you have any _good_ suggestions...”

“I do, actually,” Minho immediately pulls out his phone, tapping around until he finds what he wants, “Maple-mustard ham rolls stuffed with mac and cheese.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“No. It’s a fantastic idea. Better Homes and Gardens called it a ‘crowd-pleasing holiday casserole’,” Minho rolls his eyes as Key continues to scowl, “It’s a competition, asshole. We want to please the crowd, and _nobody_ fucking likes _turnips_.”

“You know what? Fine. But when your shitty, gross casserole loses the competition, _don’t_ blame me.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

~

“Are you almost ready with the macaroni?” Minho says, proudly looking over his perfectly prepared ham slices.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Key turns off the stove, carrying the massive pot with both hands, “We have to put a layer on the bottom of the dish first, right?”

“Yup.” Minho snorts as he watches Key attempt to spread an even amount over the Christmas tree-shaped baking dish, his arms shaking slightly from the weight of the pot. He savors his struggle for just a moment longer, before reaching to take over.

“Let me do it.”

“No, I’ve got it,” Key insists, tightly gripping the handles with his embroidered oven mitts.

“You’re not strong enough.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, _you’re_ being ridi-” Suddenly, their tugging and pulling of the noodle-filled pot results in its _entire_ contents dumping out, landing everywhere besides the dish. They both freeze, looking at the cheese splattered kitchen to each other to the now empty pot, and back again.

“Shit.”

“ _Shit_.”

They burst into laughter, giggling and wiping their eyes until they begin to wheeze.

“I can’t believe-”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Minho shakes his head.

“ _God_ , what a mess,” Key sighs, and reaches for paper towels. The two make quick work of wiping cheese from every crevice in Key’s kitchen, throwing out insults and giggling as they scrub. When they’re finished, they rise to face the casserole-less, festive dish once again.

“So, turnip casserole, huh?”


End file.
